


#84 "Reality"

by theskywasblue



Series: 100 days, 100 prompts [10]
Category: Inception
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: The other side of the bed is cold





	

**Author's Note:**

> Part of 100 days, 100 prompts

Arthur wakes up in Prague. 

It’s barely dawn and all the chimneys bubble with hot vapour, rising like ghosts into the clouds. The roofs are snow-covered and he can see the banks of the Vltava from his window between the peaks, slopes, and spires.

The other side of the bed is cold.

Arthur wakes up in London. 

It’s almost midday, and church bells chime over the sound of car horns on the street. There’s a note in hotel stationary resting on the pillow next to his head, containing a date, a time, and an address.

As he’s getting out of the shower, a room service breakfast arrives: toast and coffee, eggs made just he way he likes them. He eats it alone.

Arthur wakes up in Vancouver. 

It’s raining. It’s always raining; the streets are cold and slick, and everyone huddles under their umbrellas as the morning traffic streams by, or ducks into open doorways whenever they have to stand still.

He spends the first two hours of his morning doing damage control, both over the phone and through an increasingly hectic series of emails. It’s lunchtime before he notices that he’s the only one in the room.

Arthur wakes up in Tokyo.

The bedside clock tells him it’s after midnight, but still well before dawn. Neon light peeks through the gap in the curtains. The mattress dips, and a heavy arm settles around his waist, a warm body at his back.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Eames murmurs, mouth close to Arthur’s ear, stubble scratching sweetly at the back of his neck.

Arthur lets his eyes slip closed again, lets himself be led gently towards sleep by the rhythm of Eames’ chest rising and falling against his back. 

Arthur wakes up...


End file.
